


In the Valley's of Your Collarbones

by abusemesoftly



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic, Bulimia, EDNOS, Eating Disorder, bulimic, study, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abusemesoftly/pseuds/abusemesoftly
Summary: Finn struggles with his growing body, and deals with it in not so healthy ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is your warning guys, this is a detailed, seriously fucked up account of my favorite boy seriously getting fucked up. That being said, I was wanting to read about him being tormented by his mind, and there wasn't, so I wrote it. Enjoy And let's get started!

  


**STRANGER THINGS STAR SPOTTED AT GYM**

  


**‘IT’ HEARTTHROB GROWS UP**

  


**FINN WOLFHARD NO LONGER THIN, LANKY, BOY**

  


Tabloids were awful. They said awful things about good people and made them feel...awful. Finn had just turned 16, it was right after holidays. It was a new year and a ‘new Finn’ his manager had said when he told him about the trainer he had received as a gift. He had gotten taller, he was already at six feet, and estimated to reach 6’5. But he was never going to get bigger if he just lived off of coffee and Reeces Pieces. It was what everyone seemed to be saying now a days. He didn't understand why not, he had a fast metabolism. He was almost a month and a half into working with his trainer who was rather creepy. It was nothing terrible, just the way he acted was a bit off. But Finn just brushed it off and continued with his push-ups. He had recently gained some weight. Muscle really. His arms took to the work out sessions like crazy. His chest and stomach did a bit, but other than his arms there was no huge difference. He was talking with some friends at lunch one day when his manager had called asking about something to do with his imdb profile. He brushed it off, told him to take care of it, and went back to eating. 

It wasn't until he got home later that day after practice that had run a bit late, that he texted to see what all the fuss was about earlier. 

“Well we needed to change your ‘best feature’ part of the bio. I updated and said your arms, everyone knows you've been working out, I think you should do your next shoot with emphasis on them.” His manager rambled. He looked in the mirror quickly when he got home, looked at his arms. They were alright, but they weren't much different than before in his opinion. 

“Also, the sweatshirt thing is pretty old news, I'm having Sarah bring you some new clothes, tighter fitting ones. People are loving you, and we need to show off all the hard work you've been doing.” He said talking more about his stylist. He loved his sweatshirts. He hated showing off in tight stuff like everyone else. His body was just normal, what was there to show off? 

He didn't have super defined muscles, or abs, he had ribs, and elbows that poked out a bit too much. He loved the look he had grown into. It worked for him. He got off the phone and went to the bathroom. He stripped and really looked at himself. 

His arms were bigger, but they looked alright, less spindle-y. He couldn't see his ribs anymore either. He didn't know why that bothered him so much, he assumed it was just because he had gotten so used to seeing them for so long. His torso was a bit harder, as it toned up, his legs were stick thin up until his thighs where they started to get bigger as well thanks to the training.

He knew he had gained some weight, he assumed it was just muscle, but he wasn't sure how much. He stepped on a scale and sure enough he had gained almost 20 pounds in the last couple months. Ever since his growth spurt he had been eating a lot more, but the exercise got rid of that right? Surely he hadn't gotten fat. He looked back down at his stomach and ran his hand over the skin, over his hip bones that were starting to vanish. He didn't understand why he was so upset. He still looked healthy, and normal. But he had to suck in his cheeks to get the classic look he used to have. 

He went to bed and instead of playing a game, or reading, he looked at some old pictures, and in no time found himself down a rabbit hole reading an article about how he had gotten too big, and his classic look made him look like everyone else and people weren't happy with him anymore. That just lead to more articles about weight loss, and soon he found himself looking at pictures of what models in his range look like. He hadn't realized he was so much bigger than them. How could he call himself a model when he was so...fat! 

The first thing he needed to do was stop toning up, he had to get rid of the weight he had put on, and then some to make up for his height. He wanted his hips and cheek bones back, and he wanted to see his ribs, he loved playing with them when he was younger. He had to get back to his regular self. He was thin and weird looking, and now he was just weird. That wouldn't do. 

The first thing he did the next morning was call his trainer and quit. He hated working out anyway. He sat at his kitchen island as he grabbed a bowl for some cereal. He remembered why he had fired his trainer and sighed putting the bowl back as his dad came downstairs into the kitchen. 

“Oh, grab me one too.” He said as he grabbed the cereal and milk. 

Finn sighed to himself and grabbed two bowls and two spoons. His dad and him ate breakfast together every morning. He’d have to change that. No one ate breakfast anymore anyway. He talked with his dad a bit and as soon as he was done he raced upstairs and laid back down. This was going to be so much harder than he thought. 

Breakfast he could cross off by getting up a bit earlier, and saying he had eaten before his dad came down. Done. Lunch was usually with someone on his team, or friend's. That would be the hardest to avoid, so he’d have that one, and he supposed dinner would be okay too, seeing as it was his favorite meal.

He could do this. 

It had been three weeks, and he was doing so much better. He hadn't eaten breakfast since he started and had gotten used to skipping the meal. Lunch he had learned to get out of pretty easy, and found he quite liked not eating it. He always said he ate lunch, or was going to an early dinner or didn't feel good. He had managed to drop the 20 pounds no problem, but he was still not as thin as before, he could only see his hip bones a little better, not even any ribs yet, so he decided He’d just go until he saw those. He made sure to check what people were saying about him every night, and he weighed himself every morning. It was going so well until he had all day to spend with his manager. He had to leave the house super early, with his dad, so they stopped and got coffee and donuts. It had been so long since he had eaten this early, so he drank his coffee and looked at the bag that held the sweet confection. He wasn't able to make himself eat it, especially knowing that they would all be getting lunch and dinner together. He wore his favorite hoodie and classic black sunglasses into the meeting, and shook all the hands he needed to before he could sit back down. It was early, and he was tired, so he pulled his knees up as he sat in the rolly chair  quietly while his father and manager talked with other people. 

He had gotten bad about zoning out a lot, but it was fine, he just had to go along with whatever they said and give everyone a smile when asked and they loved him. He was walking on set for his photo shoot and there was a photographer he had seen before but he wasn't sure where.

“Finn! How are you! I'm so excited for today, I have one picture in particular I think you and I will both love, if it works anyway…” She rambled and jumped around, hugging him and then shaking the adults hands she smiled and turned back to him as everyone else was distracted. 

She was young, compared to some of the photographers he usually worked with anyway, and she was small. Very small, like him. 

“Sure, sounds good, what are you thinking?” 

She went on to show him the small set she already had up, some props, some outfits, and one in particular she was looking forward to.

“So I have this idea, it's an old shirt, kids shirt actually, but I thought it would be awesome to have this, whatever jeans you wanted, and this one jacket, maybe some sunglasses, who knows. What do you think?” She showed him an old children's shirt, looked like it was from the 50’s. It was...tiny. He had a moment of panic, he wasn't sure it would fit. But he loved the outfit she had put together, it would be a truly great shot, if it worked. 

They took so many pictures, different angles, poses, props, outfits, and it was almost towards the end and the photographer had been biting her tongue about the shirt. 

“I wanna try the one shirt, if that’s alright.” He said going over and taking the shirt, and his jeans around the curtain to change. The jeans were two sizes too big but would look good, and the shirt was...much to small. He didn't want to go out and show them. 

He was sure that younger Finn would have been able to get it on. It was supposed to be short anyway, because it was a children’s shirt. So he knew it was supposed to be short, but he couldn't get it on properly, it just wasn't working. He pulled it off as he moved to the corner of the small area he had. He sat on the floor, and just looked at the shirt on the ground in front of him. He wiped away a couple tears before he grabbed a tank top that was hung back there. It was skin tight, but still fit the right way, and he figured it would be a good compromise. He looked in the mirror and shook his head before his dad’s head peeked around the curtain seeing if he was okay. He smiled and bounced out to take the pictures, pretending to be some Hollywood starlet, making them all laugh. 

The girl behind the camera smiled sadly and then laughed at him and didn't mention the shirt again. The shot still turned out amazing. He didn't have the same energy he had at the start of the shoot. He had never not fit into something...maybe he was fat. He was changing back into his clothes when the photographer poked him through the curtain. 

Confused, he pulled it back a bit, and she stuck the shirt in through the crack. He grabbed at it awkwardly, almost missing what she said. 

“Hey, keep this as a goal.” He looked at her confused. “You know, it’s easier if you just don’t keep any food down.” She then pulled the curtain closed closed extra, and was gone. He was even more confused but took the shirt and put it under his hoodie. They left and went straight for lunch. 

They got to the soup and sandwich cafe and hadn't even got both sides of his fat ass in the chair before his father was talking about food. He rolled his eyes as they all made small talk while looking at the menu, Finn always got the same thing at places like this. Caesar salad, no croutons, no cheese, dressing on the side. While his dad went to order a few girls came up asking Finn for his autograph. He pulled his hood down, smiling as he signed their papers, and took pictures. They left when his food finally arrived, and he was almost sad, he hadn't been thinking about the fact that they were here to eat while talking to them. 

Sitting back down he ate his salad and took care to drink lots of water between each bite. He wasn't even half finished when they were already done. Thinking about what the photographer had said, he pushed his plate away saying it tasted funny, so they brushed it off, said they’d get him something else later, and left. 

While they were in the car he came up with a plan. 

“Pull over, at that gas station. Please.” He begged his dad, looking at him in the rear view mirror. Once they were stopped he ran inside to the bathroom before his dad could catch up or come in. He closed the stall and lifted the toilet seat. 

‘Here goes nothing,’ he said to himself and pushed two fingers down his throat, moving them around. He gagged a bit at first, saliva pooling in his mouth, he did it again, covering his hand in spit as he felt the churning in his stomach he was none to familiar with. 

Once more and the salad and water he had came right back up along with the coffee from the morning. It was...disgusting. Why anyone wanted to do this was beyond him. And yet…

“Finn, are you okay?” His dad called coming in the bathroom. 

“I think I'm sick, that salad…” he said, heaving into the toilet again, spitting and wiping his mouth off. He stood up on wobbly legs and flushed, he felt...lighter. 

His father believed the lie and he had a smug sort of satisfaction in knowing he had gotten away with it. He knew he'd need to be careful About not doing it to much, only when it's necessary. He started thinking about how he could avoid eating dinner that night when before he knew it he was being woken up by his father.

“Finn, we’re home, you weren't looking to good so we cut the day short, most of the stuff was done anyway, just make sure to get back with Edward about that magazine shoot.” His father started talking about stuff after he knew he was awake. They slowly walked into the house and Finn couldn't help but tune his dad out. He was talking about food again and Finn just excused himself to his room. Once he was there he locked the door and went to the bathroom. He took his hoodie off and the shirt from earlier dropped onto the scale in front of him. It didn't way anything barely. Funny. He wished he weighed the same. 

Grabbing the shirt he put it aside with his jeans and hoodie, and stepped on the scale, looking at himself from the side as he waited. He looked...good. He smiled as he noticed his ribs poking out a bit. This was the key. He checked the scale and sure enough he was already down a whole pound. He scratched the idea from earlier about only doing it when he had to. He decided right then and there, looking at himself in the mirror, a demented smile on his face as he ran his fingertips over the edges of his ribs, that he would do this every day if that's what it took to stay looking like this.


	2. Coffee, Smokes, and Diet Cokes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another week, same problems arise. But are people starting to notice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this, but I'm in a mood, and I'm already working on chapter three, and there will be at least 5 chapters. This can also go along with my other Finn fic, where he get's with Noah if you wish. We'll just say its all in the same universe.

When Finn woke up the next morning, he smiled for the first time in a while now, usually only his fans could make him smile, or the scale, but his stomach growled like it always did, and he let himself enjoy the sound. It was like a victory bell going off inside of him, bouncing against his rib bones, and echoing through his body. When he got up he went to the bathroom first thing like always, and took off his sleeping shirt, and pants, and the sweatshirt he was wearing as well. He was so cold now a days, he read that would happen. 

He stepped on the scale and as soon as his eyes found the mirror his smile fell. He wasn't as skinny. How was it possible? He couldn't see his ribs at all, forget seeing his hip bones, his collarbone the only he could vaguely notice. He didn't understand what had happened. He didn't eat anything, and yet...all the progress, how happy he was was all for nothing. 

He kicked the scale across the floor. It couldn't be. It had to be wrong. With tears in his eyes he went back over to the scale and got back on, yelling at it. He cried on the bathroom floor that morning instead of eating breakfast. His mind was numb for hours till noon, when it requested water. He forced himself to get up from his bed that he had somehow gotten back to, and pulled on a sweatshirt. 

Shuffling to the kitchen he got a glass if tap water and sighed, dumping it out as he went to the fridge getting ice water. He downed the whole thing in one go and hissed at the temperature. He read it was better to drink ice water than tap water. Like a light going off he decided that the best thing to do was go and look up more tricks. Something to help him just a little more. When dinner came around his father came home singing something about pizza. 

He despised pizza. It had become like an arch enemy. He loved it so much, he did, but that was bad. He didn't deserve pizza, he wasn't good enough. And all day he had been reading tips on what was good and easy to throw up and what was harder to. Just incase...but all of them said bread was hard, that it knotted up in your stomach and was thick and hard to get up. But he couldn't skip dinner, his father knew he had been in his room all day and if he didn't eat, he would alert his father to something being wrong and that just wouldn't do. 

Sitting, he got two pieces of the heavy, hot food. He stared it down, as if it was holding a gun to him, daring him to make the first move. 

“What’s wrong dork?” His brother said throwing the insult to him as easily as he tossed a ball. 

“Nothing.” He said and finished the statement by taking a big bite of the food. Keeping up appearances was going to be harder than he thought. He finished his two pieces, holding a hand to his stomach by the time he was done. He felt sick and disgusted. He excused himself and went up to his room, barely making it to his bed in time before he fell face first into his pillows, tears falling down his face. He couldn't believe he ate so much, but he didn't have time. 

Sitting up quickly, whipping his nose on his arm and discarding the tears still on his face, he got up, stumbling and made his way to the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door he put a towel down on the floor, kneeling on it. He knew this time would be a long one. Reaching over he turned on the shower and lifted the seat up. Shoving two fingers down his throat was getting easier every time. And it felt better every time. He coughed at first feeling the familiar pool of saliva. Again. Again. Again. There wasn't anything left to throw up finally. He sat back, getting off his knees, pulling them to his chest. He was crying again, from the sheer force of how he had thrown up. 

Wiping away his tears, he pulled his phone out and went to his favorite place. The one with all the pictures, and comments. The one with all the support. He had decided to start a blog, making a new email to go with it of course, posing as a girl his age. He found all sorts of good inspiration on there. His favorite was his most recent background. A black and white picture of a phrased saying,

“Coffee, smokes, and diet cokes. That's what pretty boys are made of.” 

Repeating it to himself he sighed, getting up, stripping and stepping on the scale. He was still just as big. Another day, another pound. He got in the shower and decided that he would do better tomorrow.  

 

A few weeks later Finn woke up with a pain in his stomach that He couldn't even describe. And he was cold, so cold he didn't want to get out of bed. But he had to know. He got up and walked himself slowly to the bathroom. Stripping away his boxers, pants and hoodie. Avoiding the mirror he got on the scale. Still the same. Damn. He swore no food today, no matter what. Luckily he didn't have any plans today, maybe he’d go to the gym. 

First things first, he needed more sleep. Grabbing his clothes and pulling them on he quietly made his way down to the kitchen and got a glass of water, drinking it all, feeling it hit the bottom of his stomach. He liked that feeling. Getting another glass, this time of ice water he made his way back upstairs and set it on his night stand, falling back into bed for another two hours. 

He could have easily slept for longer if his brother hadn't come in and woken him up. 

“Dude it's almost noon, get up, i'm going to the mall, come with.” It wasn't a request. 

“Are you going to get lunch there?” Finn asked without thinking, taking a dip of his water, sitting up but pulling the three blankets he had on his bed, up around him. 

“Yeah, what do you want?” His brother asked pushing him to the side a bit so he could sit on the bed. 

“Nothing, manager has me on a diet, I can't eat any of that food.” Good lie. 

“Oh okay. Want me to make you a salad then while you get ready?”

“I'm not hungry right now.” He said in response. Bad lie. 

“Suit yourself, come on, we need to get you some new clothes, and see some fans.” His brother laughed and left to go get ready. 

Finn did not want to go to the mall today, but he hadn't gotten to see his brother a lot recently, and it might take his mind off things. 

Getting up he pulled on a pair of skinny jeans that felt the same on him, and a long sleeve shirt before throwing a hoodie on over it. He checked the weather and sure enough it was 83 degrees outside. Should he wear the long sleeves…? With a shiver he realized it would be cold in the mall, and he would want it anyway. Shrugging he pulled on the fuzziest socks he owned, reminding himself to get more at the mall, and pulled on his favorite pair of converse. He needed another pair of those as well. 

“Dad?” He called out once he stepped outside his bedroom, his voice a little horse. 

“What is it, dad went out.” His mom answered turning a corner. She ruffled his hair and he swatted her hand away, the fans loved the messy hair. 

“I need money for the mall. Nick wants to go, and I need a new pair,” he pointed down to his shoes, “and some more socks, and I don't know what else yet.” He said with a smile. The first one in a while. 

“Fine, but don't spend to much. Nick either. Shoes, socks, and one other thing, that's it for either of you.” She said handing him her card from her wallet. 

“Thanks mom.” He said hugging her. 

“And get some food while you're there, you feel like a pile of bones.” She said laughing. Finn laughed too. Pile of bones...He felt like he was on cloud nine. Bouncing up to his brothers room he barged in. Slamming the door open. 

“Let’s Go!” he called and ran down to the car. He felt way better than he had this morning all thanks to his mom. 

At the mall the boys walked around for a while, checked out what movies were playing, and walked through a few stores. 

Finally the inevitable happened and a group of girls with the mom came up all giggly, and smiling. 

“Finn? Can we have a picture with you?” One girl asked. 

“Of course." He said and his brother stepped back to let them take the picture with their ‘favorite actor’. 

On their way into the store they were looking for, it happened twice more. 

Finn changed his expression each picture, smiling, smirking, sticking his tongue out. That was his favorite. 

Finally they got into the store, and after a picture with one of the associates, they found the shoes they were looking for. He got a maroon pair of high tops, and four pairs of fuzzy socks, all in dark colors, to hide the fact that they were in the women's section. 

“Dude, those are girls socks.” His brother said laughing at him. Just loud enough for the sales associate to hear. He rolled his eyes. At this point it was almost 5, and his brother was complaining about being hungry. 

“Let’s go to Uniqlo really quick, and then we can go home, I want another hoodie.” He said grabbing the sleeves of his current hoodie and holding them in his palms. 

“Fine, you go there, I'm going to get some fries.” His brother said and his stomach growled. 

“I’ll grab you some too.” He said and headed out before Finn could protest. 

No food today. Shit. 

He could always just throw it up. Fries sounded so good. He’s just throw them up he decided. 

Finding the hoodie he wanted, and taking a few more pictures, his brother was back by the time he was finished being rung up. Taking the fries they made their way back to the car, Finn eating his fries one at a time, chewing 20 times each, unlike his brother who was already done with his. 

“Why are you eating so slow?” Nick asked and turned the car on. 

‘Because I don't want to throw up later, but I have to.’ Was what he wanted to say. Instead he just shrugged. 

It was 6:30 by the time they got home and he had finally finished all his fries about ten minutes ago when they pulled in and he rushed to the bathroom. He had to throw up quickly before the calories set in. 

Pulling his hoodie and shirt off, to make sure he didn't get anything on it. Throwing it on the floor at his feet he kneeled on it and sunk two fingers down his throat and started to gag. Finally he got it, throwing up the fries and water in his system. When he was finally finished he avoided the scale, just knowing he had gained weight. But throwing up had made him feel hopeful. Shivering he pulled his shirt on  putting his old hoodie on his bed, and grabbing his new one out of his bag, and pulled on his new socks and converse. Rolling up his jeans so the socks could be seen, he went over to his big mirror and took a picture for Instagram. Showing off his new items, he liked it. Having an idea he quickly pulled his top and jacket off for the second time. He moved his jeans down a bit to show the hip bones that stood out. 

‘Not enough.’ The voice in his head said. Shaking his head to get the thought out of it, he took a picture, making sure to hide his face. Putting this one up on his secret account, he made sure it remained anonymous and pulled his clothes back on, getting into bed tired from the outing. 

It was 8 o'clock when his mother woke him up for dinner. Not realized he had fallen asleep, he told her he was still full from lunch, and she believed him, having no reason not too. He checked his phone when he remembered the picture. Over a hundred likes already. 

 

**Goals!!!!!!**

 

**Omg so jealous Dx**

 

**God I wish I was that skinny**

 

**Keep up the good work!**

 

**Wats ur secret?!?!?!?**

 

So many good compliments, rewarding him for the work he was putting in. 

Scrolling down he saw the last comment. 

 

**Good work, but keep going. You are nowhere near where you want to be huh? Try celery, and don't forget to work out twice a day. You can do it, if you can't you might as well be a pig. Xoxo**

 

Celery...He looked it up and sure enough, it took more calories to eat it then he consumed while eating it. Work out twice a day? He could start going back to the gym. He just hated those mirrors. What if he started running. That could work. Getting out of bed and throwing on some tennis shoes, he switched out of his jeans and pulled don some sweats. 

“Mom I'm going out for a run!” he called, and didn't wait for a response. He started with a walk. And when he was sure no one was watching he started jogging. He really was out of shape. He couldn't barely run.

After running for about ten minutes he had to stop. He was pretty far. Sighing he stopped to breath, a car drove past and he stood back up. ‘They saw how fat you are.. can't even run ten minutes…’ the voice said so he ran further. After another ten he stopped again and turned back, saying he wouldn't stop this time on the way back. And he didn't. When he got back his mom was reading on the couch. 

“You went running?” She asked, taking her glasses off her face. 

“Yeah... I didn't wanna go to the gym, but I should probably do something. Don't ya think?” He said taking off his shoes. 

“Can you get celery next time you're at the store, I’m craving it.” 

“First running, now celery? Are you alright? What have you done with my boy?” She laughed but nodded, putting it in her phone. They would have celery tomorrow, and that would be the only thing he ate. But only when he was hungry, to make it last. 

“Alright, I'm headed to bed.” He said, going upstairs. Stripping down he stepped on the scale. Sure enough he was the same. Deciding to try documenting it for the people that liked his photo, he took another picture of the scale. 

 

Current weight: 116

Goal weight:

What was his goal weight. He hadn't thought about one before. 20 pounds lighter sounded good. 

Goal weight: 98

 

Posting that he smiled to himself at the comments and likes still pouring in over his picture from earlier. Stepping into the shower, he decided to take a cold one tonight. He heard it helped. 

Getting into bed he fell asleep chanting his favorite line. ‘Coffee, smokes, and diet cokes. That's what pretty boys are made of.’ 

  
  



	3. Pizza is not for everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn meets someone who changes the game, and struggles still.

It had been about two weeks of nothing but celery, telling his mom he was in love with the taste. She believed him, something about maturing taste buds. He woke up bright and early, one day thanks to his dad. He had another photo shoot. This time for the movie he was in. He was excited to play with dogs today, but he didn't want people to see his body. Hopefully he wouldn't have to wear anything tight. He skipped breakfast like usual and made his way to the car his gobag in tow. He hadn't used it sense the last photo shoot he had. He had forgotten all about that shoot, and the shirt. While he was waiting for his dad he checked the bag and sure enough the shirt was still in there. Taunting him. 

He zipped the bag back up and thought about that shirt. He wouldn't eat today at all, and would try the shirt on tonight. 

“Coffee?” His dad asked. Sometimes Finn wished his dad treated him like a normal kid and not a famous kid. He hated coffee, but when you start drinking it at age 10 you get used to it. 

“Sure.” it was in his mantra anyway so it can't be that bad for him. And it wild help tide him over. 

They ordered coffee and drove to the shoot with the radio playing. Once at the shoot his manager came up to him. 

“You didn't tell me you canceled your gym membership?” He was not happy. Finn felt kind of bad for it now, he could use the membership to run on the tracks, but he hated the mirrors, remembering why he chose to run outside. He had been running every day, sometimes twice a day when he could swing it. He was down 3 pounds. He was so happy, and so was everyone online on his secret account. The more people loved him the more he just had to meet his goal weight. 

“I know, I'm sorry, I should have called, I just hated that trainer, he was so creepy, but I've picked up running.” He said as if it hadn't been a way to lose weight. 

“Good, good, you look great.” His manager said Finn genuinely smiled. He had been doing less and less of that as the days went on. Sure he still laughed with his brother and texted his friends, but he had become so obsessed with getting skinny he couldn't hardly ever focus. 

“Thanks that means a lot.” He said and continued into the room with more pep in his step. That was until it was time to take the pictures and the dresser for the shoot came in. Immediately she stopped and stared at Finn, he assumed it was because she was a fan. 

“Hey, I’m Finn, you have my outfits?”

She stared at him more, looking down at his hands, she didn’t say anything, he got the feeling because there was people in the room. He wanted to get her alone. Changing into the outfit, he asked his dad if he wouldn’t mind giving them some space. His dad had to make some phone calls anyway he said. 

“What is your deal?” He asked, pulling his jeans up, buttoning them, usually he would be shirtless right now, but he couldn’t stand to see himself anymore. 

“You have to stop throwing up.” She said in a calm manner. That’s what this was about? 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” She spat at him, teeth clenched. She grabbed his hand and looked him dead in the eyes. 

“If the wrong person sees these and knows what they are your career goes straight to the tabloids. Someone is bound to know what these marks are.” She said and they both looked at his hands. He had never noticed the marks on his knuckles. He didn’t remember making them, but sure enough, there they were. Small cuts on both knuckles of his first two fingers on his right hand, his dominant hand. 

“Look, I know how demanding Hollywood can be, but I’ve worked with so many stars that struggle with this, and none of them look as bad as you. And no that’s not a compliment.” She said and then quickly turned around when Finn’s father walked into the room. 

“You done flirting?” He laughed and then left again. Finn was dumbstruck. He had never had someone so worried about him, let alone someone he had just met. Everyone loved how he looked on his account. 

“Worry about yourself.” He said looking her up and down, she wasn’t fat by any means, but she was much bigger than him. He finished getting dressed and left the room. He got the distinct feeling he would regret that, but he brushed the feeling off. 

The photoshoot went fine, he didn’t talk to the girl the rest of the day, but it didn’t matter, he just needed to focus on being here with his dad, manager, and photographer. When the shoot was up his dad suggested they go get food. He was desperately hungry, but refused to eat. 

“I’d rather just go home, I’m tired.” Not a lie. 

“We don’t have anything at the house. How about pizza, your favorite, deep dish.” God it had been so long since he had had pizza, but everything he had learned since starting to throw up said not to eat bread, or pizza because the crust was hard to get up, and they were right. But how could he pass up his favorite food to his dad without giving something away. 

“I’m really not in the mood dad, I’m tired.” He said trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“Are you okay? Mom says the only thing she’s seen you eat recently is celery.” His dad said as they got in the car. He rolled his eyes. Moms.

“I’m fine dad, really, I just wanna go home, and there is nothing wrong with liking celery.” He knew what was coming next. 

“There is if its all you eat. I’ll tell you what, we can go home, but we’re ordering a pizza, and you’re having some.” He said and Finn just rolled his eyes again. He didn’t have the time for this. Turning to his account he quickly pulled up a little text bubble and started typing while his dad drove. 

 

_ Dad is making me eat pizza tonight. I know how rough it can be, any suggestions?  _

 

He posted it, and hoped that someone would respond by the time it was time to eat. He ended up falling asleep on the car ride home. Something he never used to do, but he found himself sleeping a lot more now a days. 

By the time they got home his dad gently woke him up, and they walked inside in silence, he checked his messages as soon as he got to his room. 

 

Anona commented: Drink loads of water between each bite, and take super small bites. Tiny!!!!!

 

Drunkwithpower commented: Just don’t do it, be sick, be stubborn, anything, it’s not worth it. 

 

Coffeeandsmokes commented: What I always did was drink a bunch of water before, after, and during, and when you are right about to purge, drink more water and jump up and down to loosen everything up. 

 

These were great ideas, and he remembered them while eating, his father had gotten his favorite, meat lovers. He grabbed a giant glass of water, and sat down to eat. Taking the smallest piece he could find. Deciding against the knife and fork that he wanted, he took the smallest bite he could and counted fifteen times before swallowing. Then he took a big drink of water, swallowing that as well. He could feel the bread hit his stomach, and he was not a fan. Taking another bite, he wanted to cry, he didn’t even care how he acted around his father anymore, he could barely finish this piece. By the time he was half way done he was finished with his water, and decided that was a good place to stop. 

“You’re done already?” His dad asked looking at his plate when he got up. 

“I’m not very hungry, I told you.” Was all he said before he dumped the rest of his piece into his dog’s dish, and went straight to his room. After he chugged an entire bottle of water he had in his room, he did some jumping jacks, and then headed towards the bathroom. 

Locking the door and turning on the shower, he threw a towel down on the floor, lifted the toilet seat up and looked at his hands. He had never thought about the damage he was doing to them before. They didn’t look that bad. Shrugging his shoulders he stuck two fingers down his throat. Nothing. He did it again, and again, feeling that familiar pull in his stomach, but god it wasn’t wanting to come up. He started to panic. He had done everything they said. Remembering the one comment he was worried it wouldn’t come up. Looking to his scale he wondered how much he would gain from it, thinking instead that there was no time to waist, he kept trying. Finally he felt the food start to come up. It was thick, and doughy and disgusting. The commenter had been right, there was no way he would ever do this again, he could kiss pizza goodbye forever. God would he be like this forever...always fat? 

No. No, he would stop once he hit his goal weight and got his gaunty look back. Then he could stop. Then he would stop. Wouldn’t he? 

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more to come folks, I promise. ♡


End file.
